Highly Improbable
by VHunter07
Summary: In which Watson recalls his first day of boarding school...well, almost. : !FOR KCS! Please R&R!


_This little...well actually it's rather big...oneshot is dedicated to _**KCS**_. Our very own 'Walking Canon'. Thank you so very much for all the hours and hours of hard work that you give to us continuously. I just want you to know that we appreciate it, and this place would most certainly **not** be the same without you! Thanks!_

_A little note about this tale of mine: It's far from perfect, but I did my best on short notice. :) And just to dispel any confusion, it's from Watson's POV, set in about the year 1864 or so. Hope you enjoy!_

_- VHunter_

**Highly Improbable**

I had been waiting a full two hours. Maybe more. Andrew had promised me that the train would arrive at eleven thirty, and that it would be on time. Yet here it was, a quarter to one in the afternoon and the delicious breakfast of this morning long since forgotten. I sighed heavily and looked up at the large clock hanging on the wall opposite me just over the only other occupants of the waiting room.

A man and a woman, obviously married and looking to be as nervous and fidgety as I was. Though somehow I doubted that either of them were facing their first day at a new boarding school. The man was a rather round, stubby looking fellow with the face of a definite businessman. I'd seen his type many a time when when going into London with my father. Bankers, stock brokers, solicitors. They were all the same. Stiff, gaudily dressed gentlemen with no time or taste for foolish questions. I remembered Father expressly telling me not to ask questions and only to speak if spoken to. "After all," he would say, "children are to be seen and not heard."

I shifted my gaze to the lady. She was a bit taller than her husband, slightly plump though not unattractive. Her attire was every bit as bright and rich looking as her spouses'. From her shiny, embroidered boots to her enormous, fruit basket, ostrich feathered hat, she shone as a woman without want. Of monetary concerns, at least. Taste was another matter altogether.

Through all my observing neither of them spared me a glance. Though I hardly expected otherwise, it was so silent and dark, gloomy station that I felt like a prisoner awaiting his execution. The only sounds in the room was the clocks' constant ticking and that of the toes of my boots as I kicked them back and forth across the dusty floor. I would've been grateful for _any_ conversation at all, even that of two stuffy adults.

Little did I know just how effectively my boredom was to be relieved.

No sooner had I begun to count the floor tiles for the third time, that the front door of the station was suddenly slammed back against the wall to receive the frantic form of a boy who looked to be very nearly my age. His dark grey suit was spattered with clumps of snow and torn at the left knee. I assumed that his wild black hair had at one time been contained by the drenched cloth cap that was clenched in his fist. The boy ran directly through the room at top speed, barrelling for the opposite exit as if his very life depended upon it. But the moment his fingers grasped the door knob, the door itself was jerked outward, slamming the disheveled boy into a large, rather flustered looking station master who promptly seized him by the collar.

"Here now! Thought you'd gotten away, eh?" He cried triumphantly.

The boy struggled fiercely and very likely would've escaped had it not been for a young porter, also somewhat flustered looking, that rushed in from the door through which that boy had just run.

"By George, you caught 'im, Mr Saunders!" The second man exclaimed, taking a firm hold on the lads' shoulders.

"'Deed I have, now let's see if we can keep 'im!" The two men brought the writhing boy directly over to me and set him rather firmly upon my bench. "Now don't you try runnin' off again. Just sit tight and wait for that train, there's a good lad. Your brother would have our heads of we was to let you run amok all over London."

"But sir, you don't understand-" The boy protested in a rather high, strident voice only to be cut off abruptly.

"Stay!" Mr Saunders and his assistant then backed slowly away from their charge, never taking their eyes from him until they were facing each other with their backs against opposite doors. Only then did they relax, Saunders lighting a cigar, the porter pulling out a deck of playing cards that looked as if they'd seen much better days.

I turned to face my rather impromptu companion for the first time to find him sitting as rigidly as if he'd been tied in place. His breath came in short, excited gasps as his oddly coloured eyes darted rapidly around the room. I could almost _see_ his mind working out some method of escape. I could not help but wonder if he was some sort of runaway orphan or kidnapped royalty from far away. Though his accent was every bit as English as my own, if a bit more crisp. He was horridly pale and shivering somewhat, which brought my attention to his lack of overcoat or scarf. "I say, are you quite alright?" I whispered gently.

He whipped round to face me with a look that clearly said he'd not previously been aware of my presence. I smiled politely and repeated my question.

"Yes, certainly." He replied quickly, brushing a bit of dirt from his suit front. "But I simply _must _get out of here." He turned back to me, eyeing me up and down with an intense gaze that was rather unnerving when displayed by someone who looked no older than ten years of age. "You've been waiting for some time, I see. Off to school, then?"

I visibly started. "Why yes, how on earth did you know? Have we met before?"

The boy dismissed my words with a flick of his thin wrist. "No, no. The scuff marks on the toes of your boots and those that match upon the floor are a sure sign of boredom. And your new suit with the Malden Arms School For Boys insignia printed upon the sleeve gives your destination away. I would also say that an elder sibling brought you here, you had sausage and eggs for breakfast, and rode in a hansom."

I must admit that my lower jaw was left somewhat slack at his words. For very nearly all were true. "How on earth-"

He gave a short laugh at my amazement. "Simple really. A mother or father would've waiting for the train with you, there's a bit of egg on your shirt sleeve, your coat bears the distinct scent of Yorkshire sausage and the particular splatter of mud upon your trouser leg."

I shook my head in wonder. "And nearly spot on too."

His countenance went abruptly from delight to shock to complete indignation. "What the devil do you mean _nearly_?"

I ignored his sudden burst of rude language and sniffed importantly. "I did not ride in a hansom."

"You most certainly did! Only a hansom throws up mud like that!" He fumed while shaking a bony finger at me.

I calmly flicked the egg residue from my sleeve. "And yet I traveled in a dogcart this morning."

"You-" The boy stopped suddenly and dropped to the floor aside me, putting his long nose inches from from my feet. His two 'body guards' nearly leapt from their skin at his abrupt change of position and only relaxed once more when he'd returned to his seat. "Very well." he admitted with a definite look of irritation. "It _was _a dogcart. But the splashes are very similar, you know, and I hadn't the time or interest to make a proper examination." He finished sulkily and folded his arms over his chest looking much more like a boy of his age.

Having successfully shown him the error of his ways, I recalled the still unsolved mystery of this strange boy. One which I was determined to unravel before that train arrived to spirit me away to that dreaded school.

"Why were you running from the porter?" I asked, deciding that a direct approach was best considering out limited amount of time.

He turned to me, still frowning. "Hm? Oh yes. I was trying to get away from him."

I could not suppress a roll of my eyes. "It doesn't take Scotland Yard to see that much...but _why_ were you running? Where are you trying to go?"

"To Scotland Yard."

"What!?"

"Shh!" He whispered hoarsely with a finger to his lips. "There's been a crime done and I've found the criminals, I've only got to contact the proper authorities. But those bloody fools won't let me go!"

I stared blankly at him, considering the possibility that he might be just plain barmy. He read my expression as easily as if I'd printed my thoughts before him on paper.

"I tell you it's the true! I swear it!"

"You ought not to swear-"

"Oh rubbish. The thieves are going to get away if we don't do something right away. And they'll take the jewels with them!"

It was now my turn to frown. "The what?"

The boys' eyes went wide. "Don't you read the Times?"

"You mean the London Times?"

He groaned suddenly, running a hand through his still damp hair which served no purpose except to make it practically stand on end. "The butler and the first maid of Countess Anna Franchesca de L'Monte made off with her _entire _diamond collection just last night! The police have looked all over the city but there's not trace to be found of them or the jewels."

"But I thought you said that you knew where-"

He shushed me once more, glancing round the room suspiciously. "I do. They've donned disguises, changed their names, and are waiting at this very moment to board a train out of the country." With this brief revelation he jerked his head twice to the right. I followed the motion to the little business like couple across the room...and laughed.

"Well, now you surely are joking!" Yet there was not a hint of mirth upon his pale face. "Aren't you?" I finally asked.

He sniffed in a slightly offended manner. "Not in the least."

"Well then-" I started, only to be hushed once more. "Then why don't you just tell someone? The station master. You could tell him and they could fetch Scotland Yard."

"I _tried_ to tell them already." He replied in a tone that clearly accused my of mental stagnation. "They won't believe me. And when I tried to go myself, they chased me in here!"

"Oh." We sat in silence for a moment, each lost to his own thoughts. It was pretty mess indeed. The train should arrive any minute and the criminals, if they truly _were_ the thieves in question, would make their escape. I turned to my companion. "What do you intend to do?"

He gave a sigh bearing a weariness far beyond his years and nodded slowly. "There's nothing for it. We will have to cause some sort of distraction and force them to reveal themselves."

"_We?_"

"Certainly." He said, exasperated. "Surely as a fellow Englishman you are interest in seeing justice done?"

"I...well yes, I suppose. But-"

"Then it's settled. Now, we haven't the time to get Scotland Yard ourselves therefore we simply must prove to the station master that what I say is true, that they _are _the thieves of last nights' robbery." He whispered, pulling me closer so than he might lower his voice even more so. "You will have to distract the station master and the porter while I confront our perpetrators and make them reveal their true identities."

"But how-"

"Never mind that," He waved me off. "I will manage, but you must give me time."

"And just how am I to do that?"

He groaned quietly. "It doesn't matter in the slightest. Anything! Tell them you're having a heart attack."

I gave him a deadpan look. "I'm thirteen."

"Then tell them you've a long history of heart _trouble _and forgotten your medication! Just distract them long enough for me to take the necessary steps. Now..." He motioned to the wall clock over the heads of our unsuspecting couple. "When it reaches one fifteen, we make our move."

He gave me no chance to respond, but immediately turned away and began to inspect the lining of his cap with the most innocent of expressions known to mankind.

We had three minutes. Two and a half to be precise. I could not help but contemplate the full absurdity of the situation. I was supposed to be on my way to boarding school not catching criminals! If they even were who he said they were, they looked perfectly average and harmless to me. Maybe this new acquaintance of mine was simply mad or delusional, or still in the habit of playing childish games. Andrew always said that I attracted the strangest of people. But there was something about this boy that made me believe that whatever he said was true. I couldn't explain it really.

I glanced over at him, trying to be casual. He was rather thin, quite thin actually. And though I'd not stood aside him, I should have guessed him to be at least my height though obviously younger. He had mostly smoothed his dark hair into submission and was picking at the dirt and melting clumps of snow upon his clothing again, with a look of personal affrontation.

I found myself wondering again just who he was, where he came from, and where he was going. It occurred to me that we had not even been properly introduced. "By the way," I began quietly. "My name is Joh-"

"Never mind that, it's time!" He breathed, and I found myself propelled out of my chair without time for second thoughts. I glanced back at my comrade only to receive a glare of urgency. Straightening my collar and clearing my throat, I presented myself to the station master as he put out his second or third cigar.

"Ah, excuse me, sir."

The man leaned slightly forward, a kindly smile upon his broad face. "What you want, lad? That boy's not botherin' you is he?"

"I shook my head quickly. "Oh no, no sir, at all. In fact, well, that is to say...I...I need...well, perhaps you could..."

A somewhat overly loud cough from the other side of the room spurred me on at long last. "What I mean to say sir, is that...I'm having heart trouble. I mean, I _have_ heart trouble, sir, and I've left my medication at home. It's...it's very urgent sir."

The man stood to his full height, a slightly suspicious glint in his eyes. "Y'look a'right to me, son."

"Oh yes, well," I cleared my throat once more, feeling my face turn scarlet as this lie rapidly spun out of control. "I'm uh...actually not feeling very...that is..." I began a rather poor imitation cough, not even bothering to consider whether not coughing was a symptom of heart disease. Thankfully the man was dull enough to fall for it. He thumped me soundly on the back, as I coughed hardly and finally fell to my knees, gasping for air. As the porter rushed forward to help me, I silently cursed that boy for getting me into this mess and hoped he was making good use of my performance. Just I began to suspect that it had all been some sort of ill humoured joke, we were all brought to a standstill by the shrill scream of a woman. Both I and my two ill equipped 'doctors' jumped round to see that my new friend had practically thrown himself onto the only lady in the waiting room and seemed to be _determined _on divesting her of her...hat?

"What in blazes?" The porter shouted as he and Mr Saunders instantly forgot my 'heart failure' and leapt across the room to pull the boy off the woman's head but they yanked him away, the garish hat came flying off in his hands. And with it's removal, at least two dozen large diamonds came loose and fell to the floor about them.

For what seemed an eternity no one moved a muscle. I remained on the floor where I'd fallen while my friend looked at his two present captors for their reaction, but both men were too dumbfounded to move. Finally Saunders came back to life. "Blimey! Those'r diamonds!"

"And what have I been _trying _to tell you for the past two hours?" The boy said in a patronising tone while extracting himself from their rather limp hands. He then faced the thieves whose features bore twin expressions of both shock and rage. I rose and moved to stand beside him amidst the scattered jewels.

"Then...then you really _were_ telling the truth!" I practically shouted.

He gave me an injured glance. "Of course. Did you think this some sort of game?"

"But how did you ever-"

He waved me off impatiently. "Never mind all that now. They must be taken to the police at once."

The mention of the law was enough to rouse our two criminals into making a break for the front door only to be caught by the two able bodied, if slightly unintelligent, adults. The men promised to get them to a constable if their young charge gave his word that he would remain in the waiting room until his train arrived. Having received said promise, they departed, their prisoners hurling insults and ineffective fists all the while.

My friend stooped to retrieve the precious stones and place them in neatly in a pile upon one of the chairs, completely oblivious to my awed expression. "But...how _did_ you know where the diamonds were?"

He shrugged. "No self-respecting woman would've worn such a monstrous hat unless it was absolutely necessary. And I had already recognised them as Mr and Mrs Colin Masters of the Countess' employ."

I bent down to put the last stone onto the pile. "It's amazing."

"Simplicity in itself."

"And to think I was part of it all." I said with a slight grin.

The boy stood abruptly as the harsh sound of a train whistle filled the air. "Ah, that would be my train." he turned to me with a smile, offering his hand which I readily took. "It's been a pleasure working with you. Though not the best of actors, you were quite appropriate."

I could not help but return the smile despite his slightly backhanded compliment. "I was glad to help."

He gave a swift nod, retrieved his cap and moved to the door, turning back suddenly. "What did you say your name was?"

"John...John Watson."

"Ah yes...goodbye John Watson. Maybe we'll meet again someday." And with a slight bow, he was gone.

It wad not long afterwards that my own train arrived and I was on my way at last. Yet my mind was no longer on the fears and apprehension of a new school but rather our little misadventure. I could not quickly forget the feeling I'd had of furthering the cause of justice, nor could I put from my thoughts that slightly mad boy with the steel coloured eyes. I silently regretted that we had not shared the same train. Then perhaps we could've talked more. He seemed a most intriguing fellow. It was only then that I realised I'd not even asked his name.

With a sigh of resignation I pulled my journal and pencil from my bag, attempting to put it all from my mind for the moment.

After all, the chance of our meeting a second time was highly improbable.

* * *


End file.
